


The Sun is Going Down

by BallisticFëanor (Fernando9andSergio15)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Gay Zuko (Avatar), M/M, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27452812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fernando9andSergio15/pseuds/BallisticF%C3%ABanor
Summary: “Our second tribute from District 12,” Ty Lee was fumbling with the paper, “Katara Imiq!”Sokka’s heart stopped. No. No! Not Katara, her name was only entered twice, she wouldn’t survive past the first minute of the games. She was capable but so small, she was his baby sister. He wretched his hand out of Jet’s, watching in horror as she approached the stage. His heat began to race as he ducked under the rope barrier.“I VOLUNTEER!” Sokka shouted, “I volunteer as Tribute! For my sister, I volunteer.”OR Sokka was 15 when his sister was Reaped for the 74th Hunger Games
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 71
Kudos: 135





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WOOOHOOOO!!! Well this weekend has been a whirlwind of emotion! I've been feeling super creative and motivated so a new fic! LOL so here it is a Zukka Hunger Games AU! 
> 
> As a note, I moved district 12 to Alaska and the export oil/natural gas now because that made more sense than coal. Also Imiq is water in Inuktitut, one of the languages spoken by the Inuit peoples. Title is from "Safe and Sound" by Taylor Swift, and is from the Hunger Games soundtrack. 
> 
> This isn't beta-ed so all mistakes are my own (and I apologies in advance), and the first chapter is a little shorter than I usually write but they will get longer as the story progresses. Tags will be updated as I go. This is a Hunger Games AU so there is going to be violence and character deaths so please be aware of that.
> 
> As always thank you for your amazing support! 
> 
> My [ Tumblr](http://lions-claws.tumblr.com/) if you wanna chat!

The air beyond the fence felt so clear, so much better than the stale air that surrounded the main town of District 12. Sokka crouched behind one of the large trees in the free space, trying to get a better look at the cat – deer grazing on some grass just a few feet ahead of him. He notched his bow, knowing he had a good shot of hitting it. Lined up, he pulled his arm back ready to strike. _Swoosh!_ The arrow left his fingers, hitting the animal in the eye, a clean hit, instant death. Sokka stood up slowly, examining his catch for the day, when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He drew another arrow and pointed it in the face of his potential attacker.

“Hey! Stand down!” Jet laughed, holding his hands up. He was carrying several dead rabbits that had probably come from their snares. Today was a good hunting day then.

“Sorry, you can never be too careful,” Sokka knew better than anyone that was true. After all, the Capitol had killed his mother for taking less than this.

“You aren’t wrong,” the older boy sat beside him, keeping watch as Sokka removed the arrow from the cat-deer, “So. Are you ready for today?”

“Is anyone ever ready?”

Jet snorted at that. It was Reaping day, for The Hunger Games. Jet’s name was entered forty-two times, most from the tesserae, to give his large family enough food to get them through another year. Sokka’s was entered twenty times. Every year the probability of getting picked grew larger, weighing more heavily on Sokka’s mind. 

“If I were ever picked, I would just take everyone out on my way down you know? Just start stabbing my way to the Capitol,” Jet laughed as Sokka gave him a punch.

“Shut up you idiot, someone could hear us,” he examined the rabbits that Jet had brought, one was a clean kill, the others were too mangled so the pelts would be useless. Some lost coins there but snares were unreliable like that. The cat – deer would need to be divided. They could sell half the meat and the pelt, split what remained between their two families. The sun was still rising as they sat together, watching the rainbow of color fade into a muted blue. The start of a perfect spring day, new beginnings, new children sent to the slaughter.

“But do you ever think about it? Like … if we were to just … run away from here. You, me, Katara, my siblings, your dad, we could all just run off into the wild. Or better yet, we could start a revolution! We could get rid of the – “Jet was stopped by Sokka jamming a hand over his mouth.

“Really? Today of all days you’re going to recount your whole ten step plan?” he shook his head, the corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile, “You should be more careful.” He was brushed off by the older boy.

“We wouldn’t ever have to join a rig,” Jet sighed wistful for a future that may never happen. Their district mainly exported oil and natural gas, and Sokka would have to join his father on one of the fracking stations soon. Jet was less lucky, if you could even call it that, since he was scheduled to start working on one of the ocean rigs in September, just after he turned seventeen. It was the same type of rig his parents died on. Sokka’s sister was at least good at healing, so she would probably never have to touch oil work. If Sokka had it his way she would never come near it.

“What would we even do? My GranGran can’t travel far,” he indulged the other boy’s fantasy for a moment, enjoying the last few moments of sunrise.

“Well you and me, we could hunt, Katara is a healer. Smellerbee and Longshot could help with the hunting. Live off the land, like people used too, in the stories from school,” he stared out into the vast nothing that was the Tundra just beyond the non-electrified electric fence. It was nice to pretend that they had a shot at a better life sometimes.

“We should try and get this stuff sold before it gets too late,” Sokka slung his bow around himself, running his hand over his trusty boomerang, just in case a competent Dai Li agent was hiding out, but that was unlikely. Jet shouldered the deer carcass and they headed out toward the Secret Market.

* * *

The Secret Market was really just a dusty collection of stalls under a haphazard roof, selling illegal goods, majority of which were necessities for the residents of District 12. Even Mayor Arnook and the Dai Li agents would stop by here from time to time to get things they needed. Jet, of course, had many thoughts about this, about how unfair it all was. Sokka didn’t disagree but there wasn’t a whole lot they could do about it.

“What do you have for me today?” Kanna smiled at her grandson warmly, and Sokka gave her a quick kiss, dumping the rabbits and cat-deer on her stall’s table.

“More than usual?” Sokka grinned as she examined what they had brought from their hunting trip.

“Good trip today,” Jet remarked, waving at one of the girls from school. He made a kissing motion in her direction, making both her and Sokka roll their eyes.

“The rabbit pelts might not be usable, plenty of meat though,” Sokka pointed out the areas in question. Kanna smiled as a Dai Li agent walked passed, and Gao waved back at her. Gao was well known as being useless at his job, as evidenced by his lack of care for Sokka and Jet illegally hunting. Many of the agents in the poorer sector couldn’t be bothered to care, and Sokka was willing to take any loophole to make things easier for his family 

“Hmm, I will deliver the meat to your family, Jet, but you both need to go. The Reaping is only in a few hours,” she looked sadly at both of them, giving their cheeks an affectionate pat. Jet sighed and shook his head, while Sokka fiddled with one of his arrows.

The walk back to their homes felt like a death march, and it probably was if Sokka was completely honest. He waved goodbye to Jet and jogged the rest of the way back to his family’s house, seeing people already making their way to the city center. Yikes, he needed to hustle.

“You’re late!” Katara sounded annoyed, already in her best dress for the occasion. Hakoda at their table and shook his head at Sokka, as he ran to wash up and get changed.

“GranGran is going to come by later with what I caught,” he called from their wash room, the water had gone cold, probably because he was so late already. Gods, they would be in so much trouble if they really were late to the reaping.

“Hurry up!” his sister shouted from the living room.

“I am!” he pulled on his pants at a lightning pace, tossing his dirty hunting gear in a pile, he could take care of it later. Sokka splashed water on his face, and re-tied his wolf’s tail, deciding that he looked good enough for the Capitol cameras. It wasn’t like they spent much time filming the people here anyway, they didn’t care that much about them.

“Ready?” Hakoda looked at both of his children, eyes sad. Sokka tried not to dwell on that fact for longer than he had too. So much had changed since Mom had died, and the prospect of one of them never coming home, well, that wasn’t out of the question. Hakoda pressed a kiss to each one of their foreheads, and Katara gave him a tight hug.

“Dad? Do you think anything could happen to us today?” she looked between Sokka and their father, eyes swimming with doubt. Sokka didn’t want to think about the number of times his name was in the reaping bowl.

“Whatever happens today, know I love you both. So much.” Sokka joined the family hug, “But we should really get going. I don’t want either of you to be late today.” He separated them, hands warm with affection. The small family made their way down to the center, where the rest of the Distract was gathering.

* * *

A stage had been set up, large and quite frankly ugly, an old looking microphone in the center. A large glass bowl with probably thousands of slips of paper in it, looking over the crown, casting a large shadow over the families gathered. The Capitol sanctioned Dai Li mixed in with the usual agents, part of the increased security. They patrolled the square, armed with either nasty looking stun batons or a large automatic. Sokka felt Katara clutch on to him, tighter, as they walked past one of these agents herding children into the correct holding pen. 

“Do … you think my name could be called?” his sister was wrinkling his shirt with the force of her grip.

“No. Statistically that’s so unlikely, it’s almost zero,” Sokka gave her a small smile, trying to reassure her, “I won’t let you go into the arena, ever.”

Katara still looked worried but flung her arms around his neck, “Promise you won’t do anything stupid?”

“I make no promises,” he was smacked in the chest, “Ok fine,” he held his hands up in surrender, “I won’t do anything stupid.” Sokka pushed Katara in the direction of where the fourteen year olds were supposed to go stand, after one of the agents moved to grip their baton tighter. He stood in the roped off section next to hers, giving Katara a thumbs up, she didn’t have much to be worried about, he hoped.

In his section, Sokka caught sight of Jet shoving another boy out of the way so he could stand at the edge of his pen, next to where Sokka was. Hair knocked out of the other boy’s eyes to reveal a large scar. Zuko Sozin, the Capitol boy. He had arrived in District 12 randomly with his uncle, the former General. No one knew much about him, other than he had a large scar and was constantly frowning, that was all Sokka knew at least. Jet took his presence in their District as a personal insult.

“Why is he here?” Jet mumbled, elbowing the younger boy, “It’s dumb. All the rich people in this district will never have to send their kids into the arena.” Sokka silently agreed, it was no secret that the rich children were only entered as many times as required by their age, they never needed to take out a tessera to feed their families. Zuko frowned slightly but didn’t say anything. Their eyes met, but they both looked away quickly, and Sokka swore he saw the other boy’s cheek tint a light pink. A loud screech echoed over the speakers, a peppy looking Capitol woman tapping at the microphone.

“Is this on? Hi! My name is Ty Lee and I am the new escort for this district! I’m so excited this is my first year doing this,” the lady continued to explain the origin of the Games, how it was such a huge honor to be chosen. Sokka though she was far too upbeat for her current job title, and Jet bristled next to him at her enthusiasm.

“Ugh I can’t deal with the Capitol people today,” Jet whispered.

“Agreed,” Sokka mumbled back, watching as Ty Lee introduced their one and only victor, Pakku. The man was already glaring at all of the people gathered which was pretty normal for him. The man was either in a bad mood, drunk off his ass, or both. He was also terrible at his job, he still remained the only victor from 12. Every year, Sokka remembered watching in horror as their tributes died in the blood bath moments into each game. He couldn’t recall a year in his memory where they made it past that point. Maybe that explained the drinking.

“Well, that was so great you guys! But now it’s the most exciting part, we are going to pick the very brave tributes that are going to represent your district this year!” The lady reached into the bowl beside her, pulling out a slip of paper.

Sokka held his breath as she opened it, her peppy expression not falling from her face as she read the name.

“Zuko Sozin!” whispers grew amongst the gathered crowd, and Sokka stood, mouth open as the boy made his way to the stage. Was that even possible? Could someone from the Capitol really compete in the games? The crowd grew silent as he stood on stage, scar looking more pronounced than it had just moments ago. Probably because Zuko’s skin had taken on a terrible pallor color.

He remembered the only time he had ever interacted with him, years ago, at the bakery. Sokka was a few coins short for a loaf, and was trying to beg the baker for an old stale one. Nothing was working and he had sat on the steps of the building, trying to find a few coins that maybe someone had dropped. A hand had entered his vision, holding out a smooth loaf, made from the refined grain, not the dark hard stuff you got from the tesserae. Zuko had been standing over him, holding out the bread. Neither said anything as Sokka had taken it wordlessly. The boy did not seem threatening, at least not in the ways Jet seemed to think he might be. He was violently brought back to reality with another elbow from Jet.

“Just one more name,” the older boy squeezed his hand, and Sokka squeezed back. They were almost in the clear, just a few more moments and they would live to see another year. Katara would be ok. 

“Our second tribute from District 12,” Ty Lee was fumbling with the paper, “Katara Imiq!”

Sokka’s heart stopped. No. _No_! Not Katara, her name was only entered twice, she wouldn’t survive past the first minute of the games. She was capable but so small, she was his baby sister. He wretched his hand out of Jet’s, watching in horror as she approached the stage. His heat began to race as he ducked under the rope barrier.

“ _I VOLUNTEER_!” Sokka shouted, “I volunteer as Tribute! For my sister, I volunteer.” Another murmur went through the crowd, and the mayor looked at him sympathetically, but all Sokka could focus on was his little sister. Katara was going to live, she wasn’t going to be in the games, she was going to be ok. 

“SOKKA! NO!” She tried to run towards him, but one of the Dai Li agents grabbed his sister and she started screaming. 

“KATARA! What’s going on?” He was grabbed and pulled on stage, Ty Lee looking stunned, Zuko’s face was still horror struck. The crowd was silent as Ty Lee grasped both of their hands, raising them for the cameras, shaking.

“Your tributes from District 12, for the 74th Hunger Games!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka says goodbye and takes a train to the Capitol, also he talks to Zuko for a bit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter a day early! Yay! 
> 
> This chapter is a bit of set up but you get a few cute Zukka moments, but next chapter oh boy! We're gonna be getting into some exciting stuff
> 
> Also, this isn't beta-ed so all mistakes are my own (and I apologies in advance). I hope you all enjoy this chapter and thank you so much for your support! 
> 
> As always thank you again so much for reading! [Tumblr](http://lions-claws.tumblr.com/) if you wanna chat!

Sokka was still shaking even an hour later, wanting in one of the receiving rooms in the Justice Building. He trembled as he stared at the door, waiting for his family to appear, one last time. Zuko sat on the other side of the room, his long hair pulled back showing off his scar, red and terrifying. Time moved slowly when they were escorted here, the mid-day sun starting to beat down on them as they just waited. He assumed that this is how hippo cows felt in District 10, right before they were converted into sausages. The other boy was fiddling with a button on his shirt, hands shaking just like Sokka’s. The door opened, and Katara burst in, cheeks damp with tears.

“Oh my god, Sokka,” she cried, throwing her arms around him, “Sokka.” Katara was shaking so hard, he was having a hard time holding on to her, or maybe that was just his own shaking. “The guards outside, they were –” She sobbed, gripping on to his shirt. “You’ll come back, you – you’re going to win and you’ll come back to me and dad and everything will be ok!” A hand was placed on her shoulder, and Hakoda pulled her back from her brother.

“Son,” he sounded choked, and Sokka felt tears in his eyes, “I love you. So much.” He flung his arms around his father, finally allowing the gravity of the situation to hit him.

“Dad,” Sokka tried to control his voice but failed, “I’ll come back ok?” He hoped he sounded somewhat confident, but the odds were never there. Katara attached herself to his side, clinging on to him, probably for the last time ever.

“You were going to teach me how to hunt right? You have to come back to teach me,” she was almost grasping at straws, “Please, you have to come back to – to teach me.”

“In three weeks I’ll be back, and I’ll show you how to set a snare,” he held his sister’s face in his hands, “I’ll be back in time for your birthday even!” Tears were dripping down his face.

“Of course you will,” their dad pulled them close to his chest, “I believe in you, son.”

A loud banging against the door broke the moment, “Five minutes!” one of the agents called from the other side. Katara refused to let go of Sokka, still clutching on to him tightly as Hakoda stood by Zuko for a moment. He held his hand out and the other boy shook it, stiffly. It occurred to Sokka, in that moment, for him to return home Zuko could not, feeling a chill run down his spine.

“You’re all good kids,” Hakoda murmured, hugging Sokka one last time. Probably the last time.

“I love you Sokka, you can’t leave me. The Capitol won’t take more of my family away,” Katara gripped the front of his shirt, shaking him, “You’ll come back, this isn’t goodbye.” A Dai Li agent came into the room, to take his father and sister away, and Sokka wanted to scream at them to leave them alone, but he held his tongue, for once.

The next set of visitors were sent in. An old man embraced Zuko, who burst into tears. Sokka watched as he rubbed Zuko’s back, tears also in his eyes as the older boy trembled, in what he assumed was probably fear. Sokka recalled that the older man was his uncle, a former general? He couldn’t remember exactly who he was but he had accompanied his nephew to district twelve when he had been exiled.

“Uncle,” Sokka tried to tune them out to give them a semblance of privacy, “I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t hear what the older man was saying, just that he was comforting Zuko, for the last time. Sokka tried to swallow down the feeling that he wouldn’t be coming back, that yeah he wouldn’t see his dad and his sister again. That even if he did come back, Zuko would not. His thoughts were broken by his next visitor.

Yue looked as though she had run across town, which was probably likely. “Sokka!” she hugged him tightly, “I had to go grab something so I was late and I’m sorry. I … could you use this, as your token in the games?” She held out a small pin, gold, with a sparrow-hawk.

“Yeah, I hadn’t even … thought about that,” he held the pin in his hand and looked into her wide blue eyes. In another life, he could have married her, they would have had three kids, and he could have, would have, lived a happy long life.

“It’s just something to remember me by,” she closed his hand around the little item, “I couldn’t … Good luck Sokka, if anyone can come back home, it’s you.”

“Thanks,” he turned the pin over in his hand, feeling the details of the feathers scrape against his thumb.

“Time’s up!” an agent banged on the door again, signaling the end of the visiting time. Yue pressed a kiss to his cheek as she left, giving him one last smile. Sokka waved and watched as she left, the pin still clutched in his hand.

“Good luck, Sokka,” Zuko’s uncle gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“Thank you, sir,” he felt slightly nervous looking at the old man.

He gave Sokka a sad look, “I’m sure I’ll see you again. Good luck dear boy.” Sokka looked over at Zuko, who was still wiping his eyes, and felt like he had been punched in the gut, slightly.

“Last visitor,” the agent posted outside their door called, and Jet appeared. Sokka stood and gave him a hug, trying to memorize the feeling.

“You’ll come back, sharp shooter,” Jet grinned, “I believe in you.”

“Everyone seems to.”

“If anyone in this entire district has a shot it’s you. I … know you’ll come back,” he pulled out of the embrace and Sokka could feel his heart start to race.

“Do you really think that?”

“Yeah, I really do, Sokka. And … I’ll make sure your sister and dad are ok, just while you’re away and then you can take over for me,” he punched the younger boy’s arm lightly.

“Thanks,” Sokka’s voice sounded hoarse with nerves, “Make sure nothing happens to my sister?”

“Your sister is safe with me. She won’t go hungry ok? Nothing is going to happen to her.”

Sokka threw his hands around Jet, “Thank you, so much.”

“Since this is only a see you later, when you get back – “

“Visiting time is over!” Jet was interrupted by the Dai Li agent, “All visitors must leave now.” 

Jet was yanked off Sokka “Alright I’m leaving.” He held his hands up in surrender and it took all of Sokka’s willpower to not chase after him.

* * *

The two tributes were rushed off to the train that would take them to the Capitol, Ty Lee’s incessant chatter was starting to give Sokka a migraine. The Tribute Train was nice, Sokka looked around his cabin, and felt dirty. His skin crawled as he stroked one of the overly plush pillows, hands having not stopped shaking. The landscape changed rapidly as they moved throughout the other districts, past wheat fields, cows, and the occasional factory. His stomach rumbled, and Sokka noted that he hadn’t eaten since that morning. The rest of the train was as lavishly decorated as his room was, and Sokka wondered how much it all cost. Probably enough to feed his entire district for a year, maybe even two. Entering the dining car, he was greeted by the sight of Pakku downing a large glass of whisky, while Ty Lee continued chattering away.

“Is there, uh, food?” he looked around the room, eyes landing on a set of doors he assumed led to the kitchen.

“Dinner will be served in twenty minutes,” Ty Lee beckoned him over to sit at the dining table, “Sit with us!” Pakku just grunted at him. A large floral arrangement decorated the center of the table, and Sokka stared at the flowers. He touched one, they were fresh, because they would be. Their color was so bright they looked almost artificial.

“Find the other kid,” Pakku looked up from his drink briefly, narrowing his eyes at Ty Lee.

“Yes! We need to be united as a team,” she stood and headed back the way Sokka came, presumably to find Zuko. Sokka sat with the victor, trying to summon the courage to say something, anything, to his mentor.

“So um, what should we … do?” he tried to get Pakku’s attention, but was met with a snort.

“Survive kid, what else.”

“But like … how?”

The older man narrowed his eyes at him, “You want a strategy? A plan of how to do this?”

“Well … yeah…”

“Accept you won’t be going home.”

Sokka stared at the flowers in front of him, scenery continuing to speed past them, “Ok, what else. Beyond that.”

“You got any skills?”

“I can … hunt. With a bow. Use a boomerang,” he reached out to touch one of the flowers, a bright red one, almost flame colored, before licking eyes with Pakku, “I know how to survive.”

“Hmm,” was all he got back, as the other man downed his drink, “And people like you.”

“What?”

“The District. They like you. I know who you are. That matters too.”

“It … does?”

“If you want to live, the Gamemakers need to want you to live. You need a story, and you have a good one. The older brother volunteers to save his sister,” Pakku burped, “From a district as poor as 12? Probably as good as you could get.”

“I … what?”

“Look, I don’t like to put money on anyone in that arena. But if I were to, this year, I’d put it on you.”

“You’re wrong I –” They were interrupted by Ty Lee returning with Zuko, the girl still buzzing from some endless store of energy. Zuko had tied up his long hair into a messy bun, a few strands falling in front of his red rimmed eyes. He scowled at Sokka, sliding into the seat opposite him.

“Great! Now that we’re all here, I’ll have them bring out our food,” Ty Lee waltzed away again, leaving the three district 12 citizens in an awkward silence.

“You should stop the crying kid,” Pakku barked at Zuko who flinched away from him, unwilling to meet his eye. He cringed away from the servers as they brought out their meal. Sokka stared at the dishes on the table and his mouth watered. Fresh bread, juicy looking sausages, perfectly roasted vegetables, _gravy_ , a whole turkey. So much food, more food than he had ever seen at any one time. Forgetting the horrible knots in his stomach, he loaded up his plate, shoving as much as he could into his mouth, only taking a moment to breath between each bite.

“Slow down! We don’t want you to choke even before you get to the arena!” Sokka stared a Ty Lee, who was daintily cutting up her food, probably so she didn’t mess up her elaborate make up, “You both have such a good shot this year!”

Sokka looked down at his plate, suddenly not feeling hungry any more, “Everyone keeps saying that.”

“Well it’s true!” she beamed, “Your odds are great this year! I totally read the energy and I think one of you could win!” And the other wouldn’t come back, was left unsaid. Sokka met Zuko’s eyes, his face still contorted into a grimace though now that he looked closely, Sokka realized it might have been his default expression due to his scar.

“I – I think Sokka could … win,” the other boy whispered, not meeting his eye, “He’s really ... good.” Sokka stared at Zuko in surprise.

“I – “

Pakku burped again, “Stop being humble kid, and accept the fact. You could win this. Or you both could die.” They sat in another bout of uncomfortable silence after that statement as they finished the meal. Or Ty Lee and Pakku finished eating, Sokka and Zuko had lost their appetites.

* * *

As they journeyed through the night, Sokka wandered through the various, overly luxurious cars, trying to find a small semblance of peace. Or become so exhausted he gets a few hours of sleep. Walking through one of the personnel cars, he paused at the set of rooms that housed Zuko. Knocking on the door, he held his breath, but didn’t expect much. So, yeah, he was kinda surprised that Zuko opened the door for him, though him being awake wasn’t a shock. Pakku was knocked out cold from the liquor earlier, and Ty Lee had no issues sleeping.

Zuko let him into his room, and he stood against the wall, while Zuko huddled on the bed, staring out the window as trees whipped past them. They said nothing, just sitting in the quiet, like it was before a storm when the birds stopped singing. The other boy was playing with a pendant on a thin chain, rubbing it and turning it over, a small tick of his.

“What’s your necklace?” Sokka stared at the token in his hand and Zuko held it out for him to see it, “It’s pretty.”

“It was my mom’s,” he watched as Sokka held it, the pendant was smoothed down, like it had been rubbed smooth over the years, “It’s all I have left.”

“My sister has my mom’s necklace too. She never takes it off.”

Zuko took the necklace back, and looked into his eyes, “You and your sister are super close.”

“Yeah. After my mom died, our dad got assigned a far rig so he’s gone most of the year. He gets to come back for the Reaping though,” Sokka sighed, “I’d do anything for her.”

Zuko stared back out the window, scar side facing him, “Yeah, I … saw. I have a sister too.”

“Is she back at the Capitol,” he touched the other boy’s arm and he flinched away. Sokka looked closer at the scar, realizing it wrapped around his face and onto his ear, the eye it covered a milky white. 

“She is.”

“Oh. That must be … hard?”

“No. She’s … kind of the worst,” Zuko quirked the corner of his mouth up into a tiny smile, very different from his usual frowning expression. Toeing his shoes off, Sokka sat next to Zuko on the bed.

“That … sucks.”

“I guess.” He wrapped his arms around himself, protectively. Sokka felt rigid, sitting on the too comfortable bed.

Watching more trees zoom past Sokka finally asked a question that had plagued him for years, “Do you remember when you gave me bread? Why’d you do it, you could’ve gotten into trouble?”

Zuko turned his head toward him, “You … needed it more than I did. And … you were always nice to me, at ... school. You were … kind.”

He studied him, not finding evidence of a lie, “Oh. Uh, yeah. You … I didn’t do anything … did I?”

“You … uh, stopped Jet a few times. And, um, you spoke to me too. No one else did.”

Sokka tried to remember his time in school but his memory was hazy at best. So much had happened since it had ended. “Yeah. Jet can be … a lot sometimes.”

Zuko smiled a tiny bit wider, “You’d make a cute couple.”

He balked at that, “I don’t like Jet like that!” But Zuko was probably right. If things were different, he could have settled down with Jet and lived a boring life. “I always thought I’d marry Yue, if you want to know.”

“You … still could,” they both felt the tension increase. Only one would come back.

Sokka looked at his hands, “Only one of us comes back. If that.”

“I know,” Zuko held his hands in his, “It will be you. Don’t worry.” Sokka pulled his hands away.

“I really hate how everyone says that, you know? Because … because that means you don’t come back, and I’d have to live with knowing you had to _die_ for me to come back home.”

“That’s how it works Sokka,” Zuko looked confused, “I … you have a lot of people that would care if you died in the arena, and you could make sure they don’t have to see that.”

“What about you? Don’t you have family in the Capitol? You father’s the president, someone would have to care if you died.”

The older boy shook his head, “Not in the way that they would for you. Just my uncle and … and if I’m gone he could go back home.”

Sokka shook his head, “I … just … I don't know anymore. I can shoot a bow? I can throw a boomerang? But … at someone?”

“What if they were attacking you? Or … your sister? Or … someone you knew?”

“I couldn’t ... or I don’t want to! I’m not a … killer.”

A hand entwined with his, “None of us are, but I don’t think that matters anymore,” Zuko hummed something softly, laying the scarred side of his face on the bed, “I always knew I’d end up in the arena.” Sokka hesitated for a moment before sliding next to him on the bed, lying next to the older boy.

“Why? You’re from the Capitol,” he felt the exhaustion from the day starting to hit him, his eyes starting to close.

“It's complicated,” Zuko smiled softly, in what was an attempt to calm Sokka’s nerves. They sat quietly for a while, Zuko curled up on the bed, Sokka parallel to him. “You’re special Sokka, even if you don’t know it. That’s why everyone keeps saying you’ll come back. You ... you’ll find a way back home. To your family.”

He sighed, “I’m not special at all.”

“You are to me,” Zuko mumbled, as he drifted off to sleep. He was warm, and felt comfortable resting against Sokka. Maybe it was their impending death that compelled him to do it, or maybe it was the fact that it felt like nothing mattered anymore, but he wrapped an arm around his waist as he curled up next to him. Platonically. Zuko stiffened slightly before relaxing against him, and Sokka had to resist the urge to bury his nose into his hair, because that was probably too much. He smelt like jasmine.

* * *

When Sokka woke up the next morning he tried to savor the last moments of … whatever this was. Zuko curled up on his chest, his arm thrown around him. He nudged the dark-haired boy awake, and tried to untangle himself from him. 

“Hey, we uh, need to get up,” Sokka whispered, “I think we’re close to the Capitol.” Zuko blinked, sleep still clouding his eyes and peaked out the window.

“Yeah we are. You can see the buildings from here,” he pointed to a cluster of spikes in the distance, small shapes hovering around them.

“Do you ever miss it? Living there.”

Zuko stared out at the cluster, “Sometimes.”

A loud banging broke the moment, followed by some shouting for them to _wake the fuck up_ because Sokka was missing. Which, that was false but ok. Pakku opened the door to the room and stopped his yelling once his eyes landed on the two tributes in bed. He narrowed his eyes at them before taking a swig of his drink, as per usual now.

“Wake up, you need to watch the other Reapings. We reach today,” the older man eyed them critically. Sokka hurried to push himself out of bed, and Pakku snorted at him, leaving the room.

He headed back to room to change into whatever clothing the Capitol decided he was wearing. Thankfully it was just a plain pair of pants with a boring t-shirt. After getting ready for the inevitable day, he waited for Zuko outside the lounge car, entering once the other boy joined him.

They were greeted by Ty Lee and Pakku, who was holding a remote to control the large screen centered on the wall of the car. The District 1 highlights were already queued up, ready to go. On stage stood a pair of well-fed kids, careers. Sokka felt numb as the footage started to play, watching as each tribute volunteered, eagerly, pushing their way to the front and on stage, like they had been waiting their whole short life for that moment. They probably had been.

“Careers, District 1,” Pakku flicked to the next clip where a small nimble looking girl and large boy with a horrific mustache were cheering at the fact that they were going to the Games, “District 2, stay clear you don’t need to be messing with them. Not worth the effort. Or you could and end everyone’s misery quickly.” Zuko shrank back.

They continued to watch more clips, the other districts having drastically different reactions than the Career districts. Sokka felt his heart clench as he watched a young girl from eleven get reaped, she didn’t look much older than Katara, the fact that she would likely die because of the games caused his heart to start racing again, breath becoming short. It wasn’t fair, none of them deserved to die, not even the Careers. Sokka knew he wasn’t a killer, he couldn’t … _do_ that.

He thought about Katara, coming back home to her, to dad and the rest of District 12. Of Jet. Sokka looked at Zuko, who was scowling again, not paying attention to whatever Ty Lee was chattering about. Sokka just felt exhausted and the Games hadn’t even started, nothing was in his control anymore. He had never felt more powerless.

* * *

The Capitol felt like he was stuck in a fever dream, Sokka noted, as they made their way from the train and to their floor of the training center. They were ushered in for a group lunch, because apparently eating was a major pastime here. Glancing around at the people around him, Sokka guessed that it might actually be the case. He felt slightly discussed as he stared at yet another mountain of food presented to him. Sokka smiled at one of the servers, a tall man with dark hair, and tried to thank him, but he shed away from his comments darting back to … somewhere. 

“Why won’t he respond?” Sokka stared at the man, confused over his reaction.

“He’s an Avox,” Ty Lee munched on a brightly colored fruit, her fashion and attitude blending in better with the Capitol crowd, “They’re – “

“Get their tongues cut out, most are some sort of prisoner, usually political. Or some sort of rebel,” Pakku grunted at him, and Sokka felt the food in his mouth turn to ash. He should have guessed it would be something like that.

“You just give them instructions,” Ty Lee chimed in, “They can’t answer back.” Sokka tried not to think about the implications of that. Zuko gasping managed to distract him, the other boy seemed to recognize the Avox that he had just tried to thank.

“Lu Ten?”

Pakku slammed his drink down, causing several others to rush in and begin cleaning up the mess, “If you were smart you’d shut up, boy.”

Zuko’s eyes were wide but nodded. Lu Ten, the name sounded familiar to Sokka and he tried to place it. He had some vague memory of a failed Di Li coup when he was younger that involved someone named Lu Ten. But he wasn’t sure. Sokka locked eyes with Zuko, and watched as the other boy’s hands shook. His face fell back into its default frown, now fixated back on the meal he wasn’t going to finish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!   
> My [Tumblr](http://lions-claws.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chariots, training, and midnight balcony talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! The response to the last chapter was so amazing I was literally knocked back from it, thank you so much for your wonderful and kinds words they mean so much to me and I can't find a way to thank you enough! Your comments and kudos really just mean the WORLD to me. 
> 
> Slight TW: Panic attack happens at the very end of this chapter 
> 
> Also I am dumb and didn't even realize when I moved District 12 too basically Alaska and not the Appalachian coal mines that oil and coal serve different purposes because yeah ... BUT it did create the funniest 3am google search of what oil is actually used and I kinda like the direction I went in for Sokka's looks! (But I am still a big dumb for that one). 
> 
> Next chapter should be out by next weekend! With US Thanksgiving coming up I'm spending the whole weekend writing so hopefully I'll have several chapters ready to go after the long weekend! (Idk though my planed release schedules always get thrown out the window so ...) 
> 
> Thank you so much again for your unbelievable support for this fic!
> 
> My [ Tumblr](http://lions-claws.tumblr.com/) if you wanna chat!

Sokka was starting to assemble a growing list of things he was not looking forward to which included but was not limited to: being killed, killing other people, Capitol TV in general, and the Chariots. District 12 always looked terrible, Sokka knew that was a fact. No matter the year, 12 just looked the worst out of everyone. It hit an all-time low five years ago when the tributes were sent out wearing what Sokka remembered looked like just oil, and a helmet from an oil rig. Most years, the tributes wore a rig uniform, and Sokka would have been fine with that. Zuko would look out of place in it, but then again, neither of them belonged here, really. Sokka didn’t, at least.

So, yeah, meeting his prep team wasn’t something he was looking forward to in particular, but he managed to control his frustration as he was led to the dressing area, above where the chariots were stationed. He was expecting someone in the vein of a Ty Lee, peppy and far too excited to be dressing up a child for the first and only time. The room was uncomfortably sterile, but Sokka was comforted by it in a way. It gave his eyes a break from the Capitol everything. The hiss of the door hydraulics drew him from his thoughts, and he met the gaze of the stylist who would dress him like a tundra hen during the solstice.

“Hello Sokka, my name is Piandao,” said the man, his voice was smooth and almost soothing. He was older than Sokka was expecting, but that was what District 12 was always left with, the rejects on both ends of the spectrum.

He straightened his back from where he had been hunched over in nerves, “Hi.”

Piandao pulled up an image on the holo-screen on the wall, eyes flickering over Sokka and back to the sketch, “Don’t worry. This year you won’t be wearing an oil rig uniform. My fellow stylist and I came up with something more …” he paused, as if he was looking for the right word, “Distinctive, I suppose.”

“What’s more typical for District 12 then oil stuff? You aren’t going to cover me in oil, right?” he hoped he didn’t look as panicked as he sounded. Piandao chuckled, entertained by him, which just served to increase his worry. It was one thing to die a quick death in the arena, it was another to be humiliated beforehand then die a painful death. If he had a choice, Sokka would take the former over the latter.

“Our inspiration came from what you do with the oil, and natural gas,” he was observing Sokka’s expression, his face carefully guarded, neutral almost, “You get energy from it.” Piandao pulled up an image of what Sokka would be wearing and his jaw dropped as the screen flowed away to reveal the mannequin that held it.

The whole outfit was blue (blue!), and featured traditional armor, like the pictures dad used to show him. The tunic was long and was trimmed with what looked like hare-fox fur. The boots and accompanying gauntlets gleamed, a polished metal, and the shoulder pads featured a large moon designed. Sokka remembered a folktale his mom used to tell when he was younger, of a peasant boy who fell in love with a princess, who became hurt. The princess prayed to the moon spirit to save him, but she sacrificed herself in return for his life. It was one of Katara’s favorites. Sokka hadn’t thought about it since their mother died.

The armor had a wolf’s helmet, almost identical to the ones the traditional warriors would have worn. But what really took his breath away was the pure energy flowing through the set, he could see it sparking and crackling, like it was dying to escape, waiting for the right moment to unleash. It looked as if he was sparking from the lighting, like he was directing it, merely a vessel for a greater power. 

“Wow,” he whispered. Sokka ran his hand over the chest piece, staring at it in awe, “I’m wearing this?”

The corner of Piandao's mouth turned up into a smile, “Yes, we wanted to do something different. Spark something.” He winked. Sokka nodded mutely, suddenly very ok with whatever his stylist wanted to do to him at that moment. The older man waved a few people over, who descended on him, scrubbing his nails, trimming his hair, getting him ready for the Capitol cameras. His hands shook as he pulled on the outfit, stepping out of the dressing room to show the team. The other three cooed in appreciation, but Piandao’s face remained unreadable. 

“Is it … ok?” Sokka felt nervous, wanting Piandao to like it on him. The older man pressed a few buttons and the armor started to spark again. Piandao finally smiled.

“Yes, more than ok,” he handed Sokka his helmet, and adjusted his wolf’s tale, “You are the spark before the flame.” Piandao gestured for him to follow, and they walked through the building, the hallways matching the sterility of the prep room. He was one of the last tributes to arrive, and Sokka tightened his grip on the helmet as he felt many pairs of eyes turn to look at him. Well, the gawking could start early this time. Zuko was waiting for him at the chariot, also in a set of armor, though it was flaming instead of sparking.

“You look really nice,” the older boy whispered. His hands were shaking and Sokka could see a fine sheen of sweat on his brow. Zuko’s team had draped his hair over his scar, and his armor complimented the blue tones of his with a flaming red, the synthetic flames dancing around him, highlighting his sharp cheekbones. Not that Sokka was paying attention to _that_.

He swallowed, harsher than he initially intended as he continued to stare at Zuko, “Uh, thanks, you do to.” Zuko nodded stiffly, as he climbed into the chariot. He clutched onto Sokka’s hand, and he could feel him shaking through their many layers of clothing.

“Good!” Piandao nodded at their entwined hands, “I want you to hold hands. It helps show you are united.”

Sokka paused for a moment, “Against what?” A bell ringing cut off any further conversation.

Piandao just smiled back, “That’s the queue. Remember to smile.” They were left, just the two of them, Zuko’s hands digging into Sokka’s arm.

“You’re shaking,” Sokka noted, a fact not a question.

Zuko shut his eyes and looked away, “I … don’t like fire.” His eyes traced the edge of the scar, just visible from under his hair. Sokka squeezed his hand back. Their chariot lurched forward, and Zuko slipped, falling onto Sokka, who had to grab the edge of the cart to stay upright. The shadowy holding area gave way to the Capitol Center. His arm was wrapped around Zuko, clutching him tightly, for his sake and his own. His hand was arm on Sokka’s chest, tucked under the armor.

The roar of the Capitol was almost deafening, it’s citizens dressed in garish and in some cases, almost vomit inducing outfits, clashing horribly with the tasteless architecture. District 12 wasn’t amazing but it didn’t make him want to hurl everything he had eaten in the last forty-eight hours while also making him dizzy from the over stimulation. They were led to the center of the city, an official looking platform and large banners had been set up, representing each of the twelve districts. The chariots stopped in front of the banner for their tributes, a choreographed routine, one the horses had done many times, and would continue to do.

A man with shining black hair and a stupid beard walked up to the edge of the ornate balcony. Sokka felt his skin crawl as the man began speaking, the story of the first Hunger Games, how the Districts had rebelled, and the first president Sozin had put down the rebellion. As punishment, the districts would send two tributes every year to compete until one was crowned victor. Zuko was pointedly looking away as he spoke, while a girl with sharp, almost cruel, eyes smirked down at them.

“My father and my sister,” Zuko mumbled, just loud enough for Sokka to hear. President Ozai wore a flower on his collar. It was red and orange and yellow, like the flames dancing around Zuko. Sokka thought it was almost pretty. His speech finished, Sokka squared his shoulders as he surveyed the tributes, eyes finally landing where he was standing. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, Sokka still holding Zuko against his side, his eyes alight, daring the president to do something.

“I wish you all a Happy Hunger Games,” he broke away from Sokka for a moment, to address the Capitol once more before the cold amber stare returned, holding him in place. Sokka held his breath as the president finished his speech, “And may the odds be ever in your favor.”

* * *

The Training Center was a state of the art murder preparation one stop shop, which, wasn’t really far off as far as Sokka was concerned. One of the boys from District 1 had taken control of the archery section, and the girl from District 2 had the knife, and by extension, boomerang, station held hostage by her frantic throwing, so he was left with the passive activities. Though, all things considered, he was following Pakku’s advice of keeping a low profile. Their reception after the chariots had been intense to say the least, and according to Ty Lee, Sokka and Zuko were quickly becoming Capitol favorites. So, yeah, keep a low profile to make it past the cornucopia and take it from there, that was the plan.

Sokka felt a pair of eyes watching him at the camouflage station, as he painted what he holed looked like tree bark but in reality, was a mess onto his arm. Zuko was standing beside him, and was also painting something, though he was having more success than the abomination he was creating. His eyes were drawn to the wrestling booth, watching the girl they had seen reaped take down one of the training center attendants for the second time. She was good. 

“She’s … got skills,” Sokka mumbled under his breath, and Zuko nodded, just out of the corner of his eye.

“She was following me earlier, when I was at plants,” the older boy added some green to whatever he had been creating. Sokka starred as she stood from pinning down her opponent. Her eyes were a milky white. Oh. She was young and she was blind. Sokka felt yet another wave of anger towards the Capitol. He was going to rip President Ozai’s ugly beard off his smug face if he ever got the chance.

The girl approached them after she wrapped up at the wrestling station, striding up with a confidence that seemed out of place for someone who was not a Career. Up close she seemed even smaller than Sokka had initially assumed. Smaller, but so powerful, like it was concentrated in her small form, an energy buzzing to escape.

“Hi, you’re the other District 12 tribute, aren’t you?” she grinned in his general direction, “My name is Toph. I’m from 11.”

Sokka swallowed, “My name is Sokka, this is Zuko, we’re both from 12.”

“I know,” her smile wasn’t fading, “I just wanted to meet my competition.”

“Us … not … anyone else?”

Toph shrugged, “They aren’t, not really. I can take them,” she punched his arms and Sokka had to admit that she packed a powerful punch. Which didn't really help if a hulking career was coming at you with knives you couldn’t see but he wasn’t going to bring that up.

“Yeah,” Sokka nodded in agreement, before realizing he had to say something more, “Uh, totally. You could definitely … uh … win this.”

“You really think so?” her face lit up at his comment and Sokka felt his heart sink further into his stomach. Toph was so similar to Katara, strong, determined, a fighter. But how do you fight an entire system, an entire government out to get you? Sokka was at a loss. Glancing at Zuko, he seemed to be sharing a similar sentiment. Or was appearing too anyway.

“I – yeah, I’ll … I think you can,” he wasn’t lying, because Sokka decided at that moment he was going to help her win, “Do … you want to uh do the fire station?”

“Yeah! I don’t know how to make fire, I probably should if I’m gonna win,” Toph punched his arm again, and Sokka wished they had met in any other scenario. He turned around to try and find Zuko but caught sight of him at the sword station. Huh.

Sokka starred as he picked up a pair of dual blades, and swung them around, testing their weight. The attendant said something Sokka couldn’t hear, and raised a sword in a challenge. Zuko deflected him quickly, and he stared in awe as the older boy moved. The blades were like an extension of his body, fluid and natural. Sokka felt his mouth open, and he hoped he wasn’t drooling as he watched Zuko defeat the attendant over and over again.

One of the careers moved into Sokka’s field of vision, and he felt a little spark of irritation, craning his neck to look around their hulking body. The District 2 tribute leaned over the edge of the barrier, and it looked like he was trying to talk to Zuko. The older boy cringed away from the carrier and looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up, not a surprise there. From what Sokka knew about Zuko’s people skills, yeah. Also, starting your possible murderer in the eye and talking about your impending doom.

Zuko managed to squirm away, practically running away from the sword ring, joining Sokka at fire making. Their eyes met, and Sokka looked away quickly, Zuko’s cheeks stained pink in response. Fumbling, Sokka continued to rub the two sticks together, while Toph snorted at their reactions to one another.

“So is he any good?” she laughed, and Zuko’s cheeks turned a darker flush, making Sokka look away again.

“Yeah,” he looked over at Zuko who had managed to get the fire started, “He’s … really good.”

“Great! You can keep me safe then!” Toph punched the other boy’s arm.

Zuko smiled back at her and agreed, “I will.”

Sokka glanced over at the projectile weapon section and nodded in Zuko’s direction, “I should … uh … go practice?”

“Um, yeah, if you want?” the other boy shrugged like he was unsure of what to say because – Sokka stood abruptly.

He made a vague gesture toward projectiles, his arms flailing a bit, “I’m gonna go.” Toph flashed him a thumbs up and Zuko gave him a nod of support. Sokka felt his heart start to race, again, which was starting to become a health concern. Picking up a boomerang, Sokka tested it out, trying the weight and the feel of it in his hand. It felt … good actually. Surprising in a way, since he never expected the Capitol to ever make a quality boomerang. He adjusted his stance and the station attending merely raised an eyebrow at him, like he had no idea what he was doing. Sokka narrowed his eyes and flung the weapon, watching as it sored, hitting the target and bouncing straight back to him. He caught it and felt a small surge of adrenaline and pride as the attendant’s eyes widened, shocked Sokka was capable of the bare minimum apparently.

“Could I get another target?” he watched as they nodded mutely, setting a new bullseye ready for him. Sokka threw the boomerang again, shattering the target a second time. It took him an hour but finally the attendant had to stop him.

“Sir, I … there are no more targets,” the attendant had long since backed away from him. Sokka was out of breath. The Training Center was silent as he left the station, slinking back to where Zuko and Toph were. The young girl was picking at her nails, like she didn’t really care what Sokka had been doing. Zuko looked at him in wonder.

“You … you’re … so good,” he whispered, barely loud enough for Sokka to hear him.

He nodded in response, unable to find the right words, “Um yeah, I learned how to use one when I was a kid?”

“No like I … I’ve never seen anything like that,” amber eyes were filled with awe as he looked up at Sokka, and the whole world narrowed to just the two of them for a split second. Reality came crashing down when a smattering of applause echoed around the large space. The Career pack was looking at him like he was a prime cut of saber tooth moose lion, which, again, not a great feeling.

“Yeah I … thanks,” Sokka felt heat in his cheeks, and he hoped he didn’t look as obvious as he felt. Toph helped break the tension, stumbling over some of the kindling they were supposed to be practicing with.

“Great job boomerang! But I think everyone is on to us now,” her smile had taken on a sarcastic edge. Sokka agreed but refused to admit it.

He waved her off, “Nah, I think we’re fine, right Zuko?”

Zuko gulped, “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.” They spent the rest of the training session for that day avoiding all weapons. Ropes course, knot tying, anything but combat skills, trying to keep the semblance of lying low, like Pakku had told them to do and both had ignored. The feeling of people watching them never left, and grew more uncomfortable by the minute. Sokka's hands were shaking as he climbed up the ropes course, only to see the boy from District 2 watching him closely. Toph kept getting tangled in the netting, so Zuko was able to focus on that instead of the remaining tributes.

Sitting on top of the course Sokka watched the rest of the tributes milling around like ant-grubs or some other insect. He caught sight of another girl, he thought she might have been from District 8? She had been at the plant identification section for most of the day and she was good at it. Their eyes met, but she looked away quickly. He felt … numb … his mind was blank as he surveyed the rest of the group. Toph was giggling at something Zuko had said, who had a fond expression on his face, like she had already wormed his way into his heart. Sokka’s heart just sank further.

* * *

That night Sokka found it impossible to sleep, the ceiling was a muted grey color, boring and safe. Completely unlike his situation, and Sokka wondered how many kids had these ceilings seen off to the games. Probably too many. He rolled over onto his side and stared out the window. District 12’s Training Center apartments were one the twelfth floor, giving them an almost unrivaled view of the city below them. Sokka wandered out onto the communal balcony, and inhaled the scent of the city. It smelt clean, too clean considering how many people lived there, unnatural and impersonal. Like the city itself. His head turned at the sound of the door sliding open behind him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Zuko answered his unasked question, “Though I’d come out here.” He smiled, just the corner of his mouth twitching upward, ever so slightly. Sokka mirrored his half smile back snorting in agreement.

“I couldn’t either. My room felt suffocating.”

“Yeah,” the other boy murmured, listening to the hum of the city surrounding them, “Yeah.”

They stared at the lights of blinking hovercrafts and public transporters as they buzzed around. It was amazing in a way, the technology and innovation in the Capitol. Sokka found himself wishing the rest of the Districts could look like this.

“You know, I thought I might become an engineer when I got older. Invent stuff, improve things. I wanted to rebuild my dad’s house but like … better you know?” he watched as a hele-craft took off from a neighboring building.

“I wanted to write plays actually,” Zuko’s smile became a tiny bit wider, “When my mom was alive she would take me and my sister to see plays all the time. My father he … hated it.”

Sokka snorted at that, “No surprise there. He seems like an –” he glanced around before whispering, “Like an asshole.”

The other boy let out a tiny laugh, “Sometimes. He can be like that.”

“His beard sucks.”

“I’ll give you that. My mom always said she hated it. She tried to cut it off in his sleep once actually,” Zuko stared out, not focusing on anything, lost in the memory of a life forever gone.

“Did she succeed.”

“No. My, uh, he broke her hand.”

Sokka didn’t know what to say to that, “That’s … wow.”

“When my mom disappeared, the only thing she left me was her necklace. It’s a mask, from a play,” he pulled it out from under his shirt, showing Sokka the vague blob of what was probably once a piece of delicate metal work, now worn from age.

“My sister has my mom’s necklace. It’s one of the last things left of my mom too,” he covered Zuko’s hand with his own, peeling it off the balcony floor and wrapping it up in his own. Things were still, just for a moment.

“Hey so, um, after today and meeting Toph, I think we should … keep her safe? You know? For as long as we can.”

Sokka rolled the hem of his pajama shirt, picking at one of the threads that had come undone, “I want to help her too. Do you think we could make it – final three, you, me, her?”

“I … think we could,” Zuko’s eyes were locked on the Presidential Palace, near the center of the city, “But if we – “

“We can figure that out later,” Sokka didn’t want to think about that. There could only be one winner. Zuko’s hands were warm. “I’d love to be a bender right about now, you know? I’d be so great if like I could bend. Not that it’s possible but you know, just, to be able to do that right now? Amazing.” He laughed to himself, like what he had just said was a hilarious joke. It was in a way, all of the benders had long since been killed, in the first rebellion. Years before Sokka was born, before even his father was born.

“Sure,” Zuko hand stiffened beside him, “I’m sure you would.”

“Not that it’s possible, they’re all gone anyway,” Sokka shook his head. Reason #4562 the Capitol was just … terrible.

Zuko moved Sokka’s hand so it was hovering over his scar, just a hair’s breadth away, “No, they _aren’t_.” He wrenched his hand back in shock, fingers trembling at the revelation.

“What?”

“Benders. They exist.”

Sokka shook his head, standing up, his hands shaking, “No, that’s not possible.” He whipped his head around, the Capitol was always listening, “How do you know this? What? How is this even possible?” His heart was racing as he fisted his hair.

“I … I’ll tell you after, ok?”

“After _what_ , Zuko? We both somehow win?”

The older boy stood up and moved away from Sokka, face unreadable, “Just … later. Ok?”

Chest heaving Sokka looked at Zuko’s scar again, it looked like hand print at the right angle, “Your scar. A bender burned you.”

“Yes,” Zuko’s voice sounded strained. He looked Sokka up and down once, before leaving him still reeling on the balcony. Flopping half off the edge, Sokka felt his skin crawl as he stared out into the city below him. He sank down, holding his head, thoughts swimming so quickly he felt dizzy. His dinner started to rise, and he had to swallow it back down, grimacing.

Who could benders still exist? This made no sense, how had the Capitol … created benders? Zuko could just be lying, that had to be it. But … Zuko had no reason to lie … right? Sokka’s breath was still coming out in short pants, and in the cool of the capitol night he could see each puff in front of him. In, no breath cloud, out, breath cloud. He took another deep breath, feeling his breathing start to slow down a bit. Just focus on his breath, not on anything else.

It took him a while to finally stop shaking, to calm down his breathing enough to go back inside. When he made it to his bed, Sokka started back up at the ceiling, still boring. Shutting his eyes tightly he wrapped his blankets around his face, and forced himself to finally sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading 
> 
> My [ Tumblr](http://lions-claws.tumblr.com/) !

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading 
> 
> My [ Tumblr](http://lions-claws.tumblr.com/) !


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